


Tears Shed

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam Winchester, Crying, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Top Max Banes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A night between Sam and Max gets a little awkward.





	Tears Shed

Max hates emotions.

Well, he hates showing them, at least.

He’s been super conscious about that stuff ever since he was little. He’d always get scolded for crying when he was younger, would be told by his teachers and other adults “You have to be tougher, Max, boys don’t cry.”  His mom never put up with that, thank Christ. But as much effort as Tasha Banes put in, it was hard to fight the message everyone else was drilling into his head. By the time he reached middle school, he was getting it from classmates and friends on top of getting it from adults. “Dude, crying’s gay. Don’t be such a girl.”

And once it clicked, why he didn’t find Britney Spears to be a total babe like the rest of the guys in his grade, and why he kept waking up with wet sheets after dreaming about Jake Matthews on the basketball team two grades above him, he’d worked even harder to bury his emotions. He hated crying. He hated it when Jake had called him a freak after he kissed him, and he’d spent three class periods sobbing in a stall in the boy’s bathroom until Alicia finally came looking for him. He’d hated it when he couldn’t stop crying into his Mom’s shoulder, coming out at 13, even though she just told him how much she loved him.

He thought being out as an adult would make it better. And to be honest, that was a stupid assumption. Cause yeah, he’s loud and proud, and flirts with every guy within a mile. And he might think “Fuck any person that has an issue with me being gay.” But he’s still terrified of validating the idea that because he’s gay, he’s weaker. And being around nothing but hunters, he and Alicia are pretty knee-fucking-deep in a crowd that personifies American Masculinity.

And yeah, he might’ve been a nice guy around them, but Asa had been the worst of the bunch in that stuff. Max isn’t a mind reader, but he can tell enough from facial expressions to remember to the barely contained contempt his late father had shown for Max’s behavior around other guys. So, even as an adult, he bites down his feelings. _Don’t cry, don’t show you’re upset, otherwise these dickheads will think you’re lesser. You’ll validate every stereotype they have about gay men, what they don’t have the balls to talk about openly when you’re in earshot._

Even the other gay men he’s interacted with have the same issues. Because they might pretend they’re better than straight men, but deep down they have the same fear of acting like a sissy. And, though none of his boyfriends have said it to his face, gay men only really have room for someone who looks like Max when he’s fulfilling their fantasy as a hyper-masculine macho domming the crap out of them.

Yeah, to be brief, he hates crying. Especially around other queer men, or other hunters.

Which is why breaking down mid-sex with Sam Winchester is pretty fucking humiliating.  And quite frankly, it probably would’ve been more tolerable if he’d have been bottoming, but no. Max just had to break down when he was to the hilt in one of the most famous hunters in the world.

“You okay?” Sam tone is bizarrely calm for someone with a crying stranger’s dick in their ass. But maybe he’s trying to disengage the situation smoothly, calculating how to get Max out of him as soon as possible and never see or hear from him again.

“I’m fine.” Max says, through clenched lids and teeth. Even with his eyes shut, he can feel the sting of tears as they slip out. The soft press of a hand to his face, brushing at his tears, finally forces him to open his eyes.

At least, in his defense, Max has a pretty good thing to cry over, because the hunter beneath him is a goddamn wet dream. Endless legs corded with muscles are miraculously pressed to a sculpted chest, framing the swollen purple cock between them that’s rapidly twitching and leaking pre-cum. The older hunter’s body gleams with sweat, shoulders shaking slightly as he struggles to catch his breath. Hazy eyes that are still mostly pupil look up at him in doe-eyed confusion, and _Jesus Christ why is he waxing poetic all of a sudden._

“I’m fine.” He repeats, but his voice cracks even as he says it.

“We can stop if you need to. Finish later if you’re feeling up to it.” And of course Sam has to sound sincere, legitimately concerned for Max’s wellbeing instead than trying to get this lunatic out of his ass. He doesn’t even make an attempt to, continuously wiping away Max’s tears with a thumb. 

“No, it’s just –” He can’t honestly come up with an explanation, because he has no idea why he’s crying to begin with. “You feel amazing.”

Sam gives a smile, huffing in silent laughter. Max can’t blame him – it’s tacky and sappy and makes him sound like a 16-year-old getting laid for the first time. But it’s better than saying he’s crying for no goddamn reason. _And it’s true,_ he adds as the hot vice around his cock clenches tightly, a whine slipping from his throat.

“I’m ready if you are.” He affirms, clearing his throat. Even if this is by far the best sex he’s had in his life, he wants this over, so he and Sam can go their separate ways and never speak of it again. Exhaling slowly, Sam gives a lazy nod.

Max throws Sam’s legs over his shoulders and thrusts as deep as he can, pulling throaty groans from both men. The two of them kick into high gear, Sam pushing back to meet every enthusiastic thrust he gives. He’s much more vocal than before, giving as much feedback and encouragement as possible.

“Yeah, just like that.” Sam moans when Max swivels his hips. “So good, Max, so fucking good.” His entire body’s becoming flushed pink, gleaming in the dim lighting of the motel room.

“Fuck, don’t _talk_ that way…” Max pants, digging his teeth into Sam’s exposed neck. “Not gonna last long if you do.”

“Don’t want you to.” The other man whispers, arms coming up to pull him even closer. Max’s entire body shudders, and he brings a hand to tug at the purple cock between them. Sam cries out beneath him after just a few strokes, shaking as Max continues grinding deep into him.

With the heat rapidly clenching and contracting around him, Max stills with a low groan, the condom on his dick rapidly filling up. He slumps downward, not even caring as he presses face first into the mess on Sam’s chest.

To his mortification, he starts to feel the sting in his eyes again. Wiping at his face as subtly as he can, Max gently slips out of Sam and makes to move off the bed.

“I should go.” He says, trying to keep his tone steady. He’s halfway to his feet when a hand wraps around his wrist. Turning back, he looks to see a pleading expression in Sam’s eyes.

“You can stay, too, if you want.” There’s that sincerity again. The idea is pretty tempting, falling asleep curled up to Sam. One Max is honestly too emotionally vulnerable to resist right now. He falls back on the bed, Sam getting up and heading to the bathroom, only to return with a wet towel. Max wordlessly removes and ties the condom, letting Sam wipe at his face, chest and cock with the cool damp towel. The older man then wipes away the remnants left on his own chest and brings the towel around behind him. Letting it fall to the floor, he climbs back into bed, pulling Max closer.

They’re both still panting and sweaty, but honestly Max is too busy seeping into the comfort of Sam’s arms. He closes his eyes, letting more tears fall silently as he resists sobbing.

A firm set of lips press into his forehead. Eyes lazily rolling back open, Max looks to see Sam looking down at him with an unreadable expression.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Sam tells him. “Not if you don’t want to.” There’s an unspoken implication, a silent offer extended if Max is willing to take it.

“You’re amazing.” He whispers, smiling into Sam’s chest. He means it this time, in every tacky sappy way possible. Screw sounding cheesy, Sam’s fucking earned it.

Max might be ready to talk about it tomorrow, or maybe the day after. For now, he’s content slowly lulling off to sleep on Sam’s chest, taking in the harmonies of their breathing and the feel of Sam’s hand drumming an unsteady rhythm onto his back.


End file.
